Broken Codes

Father I held the gun in my hand. Stared at it for a few minutes. It was either me, or him. He was not my son. How could he be? To see what he had grown up to be? He was not my son. I had loved him every day, for 17 years. When he was a baby, I had fed him, changed his diapers, woke up in the middle of the night to make him feel comfortable. We had done it together, my wife and I. But he was not my son. I could feel it now when I looked at him. He resembled me in many ways, his eyes were dark and deep, they looked like they had a lot of depth and wisdom but they were empty pits. Had I raised him wrong? Given him too much attention? Given him too little? Had I spoiled him beyond hope? Or had I given him nothing that he wanted? What had made him this way? Nothing of the man I had hoped he would become. We had fought today again, about how he was not in the right place in life. I argued that the way things are going, he would never be. He argued that it wasn't his time yet. 17 ...

The liar   People are idiots. You tell them what they want to hear. You use them, you lie to them, you manipulate them, easy, pliable. And you... You get what you want. Isn't that what life is about? Getting what you want? I always manage. I don't have friends, I mean there are people, I guess, they consider me close to them. But how much do you need from them really. I walk toward one of them. She is sweet, easily manipulated, a little clingy and one world class idiot. She is everything I hate about people, pliable. But I am good at what I do, can't blame her completely for her ignorance. She hugs me. She smells like papaya. It's the darn shampoo she uses. She has already started talking, a mile a minute. Irritated by people in her life, going on about how she hates people. I want to shout at her, if she hates people, why get around them, why be close to them. But no she needs them. Stupid girl. But she is easy, she helps me out with everything.  She does my work for...

The old man A clap of thunder, rain pounding hard against the window of the plane. Turbulence, causing the entire plane to rock. I close my eyes. Please don't crash. The child next me has a disgruntled look on his face. I fear he might get sick next to me. It is bad enough that I have to weather this condition the flight is in. The thought of having to tolerate this child sitting next to me, impossible. I hit the switch to call over the flight attendant. This skinny little thing comes over, a forced smile on her face. "Yes, sir?" "Are we going to crash?" I asked.  I was not afraid of the concept of death, but I was afraid of the form of dying. She smiles, it seems warm maybe even close to being genuine. She asks me not to worry,  asks me if she could get me anything to make me feel more comfortable and tries to convince me that turbulence while flying close to land during a thunderstorm was perfectly normal. This is the 4th time that i am calling her over, sin...

Her I woke up to the sounds of snores. I had fallen asleep next to him, again. He smelled a little of coffee and cigarettes. Being an avid smoker, he always had the smell of smoke. I called him "chimney". It was light outside, the sun hit my face, it was impossible to go back to sleep. I had been watching a movie with him, last night. He had made himself a cup of coffee, and I had been extremely drowsy- there had been nothing to keep me awake. I hated the taste of coffee, bitter did not taste any better with a few spoons of sugar. Now, I let myself settle closer to him. He turned over and hugged me. I felt safe for some reason in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt me. Someone knocked on the door. He awoke. "Who is it?" There was no response. I jumped up from bed, it was not against the rules that I was in his hostel room but it was still frowned upon. I pulled the laptop close to me and pretended to work on it. He went to get the door. "I called you sev...

The T shirt The morning of my first train journey alone from the city of Bangalore to the huge city of Mumbai, had me seeing the interiors of a train for the first time in 25 years. The last time I traveled by train I was 5 years old. A lot had changed since then. Flights were frequent, my father had made huge amounts of money, and I never had to bother taking the train. But as a 30 year old unmarried woman, trying to prove herself in a patriarchal society, I had cut off from my family- financially and emotionally. I had my hand sanitiser, wet tissues, pepper spray,  packed food (enough for 3 days), and I was ready to fight the germs and the assholes that could be in the train. I was dressed in my ex boyfriend's t shirt which was a few sizes too big, so as to not "entice" the lewd remarks or actions. A woman shabbily clad in a Saree came and sat next to me with her 3 kids and her husband who smelled heavily of alcohol. They were jittery and excited. There was a stron...